Friday, September 5, 2008

Sam Ronson and Uma thurman

What the fuckity fuck? I change my template and give scorching political commentary and still the invisible door to my semi invisible blog is not knocked down?

So, you are saying that the premier satirist of our time has a less read blog than a chunky malformed mincing gossip maven(perez hilton) and less than a weaselly people's court host's(harvey levin) TMZ business. What does TMZ stand for. Will no one even aske the really hard questions. Do I need to wait for Katie couric to be so down on her luck that she'll be available to ask them these hard questions. Must I go on the Huffington post and huff about the apathy or to gawker and write about Uma Thurman getting caught in a lip lock with Sam Ronson. As you've surmised, I only know of the main fat cat blogs. As the premier social satirist of our time I don't have the time or more honestly, the predilection to read many blogs. I click on links here and there but I have humongous fish to fry and my time is most dear.

Dottie Parker is dead and Fran Leibowitz retired herself so I'm willing to fill the void and ya'll are not helping. I'm even Bi partisan, For god's sake. I am showing my ability to court change or even change things. I have changed my template to denim rounders, for pete's sake. Pete, why do you forsake my efforts? Damned Pete. I should have know that he'd be the ungrateful type. As for God: That's more of a touchy subject and I won't talk to him/her in such a stern manner.

So, I ended up changing back to the norma templatate or whatever the fuck, and I got rid of the too busy denim rounders shit. Goes to show that some change just isn't worth shit. What is with my language? Disgusting.

I came here to tell my blog and it's tiny yet militant following that I went to play ultimate frisbee yesterday at the behest of a nice boy who lives in my not so nice building. The building looked nice at first: But, after more than 3 years here I see all the seed behind the fruit. Sort of seedy this sunbelt fountain joint. The boy is called Mike and so far he seems nice. I imagine seed will show, but as of this writing it hasn't.

So anyway, in a very spontanous re-meeting(I met mike about 2 years ago and we promised to "keep in touch". Alas, we both didn't exert enough energy and so we didn't) Anyway, he just came to the door to invite me to his sketch comedy show and I told him the funny and dreadful tale that I am prone to tell. We then watched her "facts of life" video and the crackpot comedy one where she looks like a creep of creeps and he too is on the repulsion bandwagon. Poor Ruby Wendell. Poor Martha Keelly. You can tell that they fear her and yet must keep in her good graces to ... I don't know... get Sarah Silverman's phone number? I don't know. The video she posts really shows her and it's very thereapeutic to see her through anothers eyes. Mike gave me a well meaning talk on how gross she is and how wasting the slightest energy on her is worse than worthless. He told me of Aikido and it's tenets. All in all it was fun and when he invited me to come along for a game of Ultimate Frisbee, I decided to miss a half of Mccains speech and come along.

Well, well. What fresh hell. I can tell you about it because I simply never tell anyone I know in real life about this blog. I want to be free to express myself awkwardly and so I don't need the pressure. So, I feel capable of telling you about this frisbee fiasco without hurting any feelings.

Where to start: Okay. So, it turns out that the building manager(a pathological liar with a great sense of detail when lying) and a large unintersting boy from the building were part of the gang going to N. Hollywood to play. It also turns out that I should have googled ultimate frisbee because I had no idea that it was something that required running and all kinds of aggressive defensive and offensive action. I wore jeans and flip flops and so it really was impossible had I wanted to play. And, I didn't. The four of us arrived at a non-green field and there was like 30 people just standing there waiting for the game to start. I didn't have time to even throw or catch one frisbee and had no confidence that I could after 10 year or so not touching one. I'm normally athletically gifted so I have no interest in being a spaz at this late state. So, nobody introduced anyone to anyone and this motley crew in their assorted adidas shorts and puma sneakers or visa versa or nike shirts with new balance sneakers or visa versa were just on this dark feild and for some reason mike was very intent on me having a good time. I absolutely appreciated his sentiments and yet I knew that a good time was not to be had with this bunch and that there was no humor or irony to be found. Mike introduced me to one gal- a supposedly successful playwright-- I knew from talking to her and looking at her for a minute that she might be successful but that she in all probability-- sucked. In my attempt to be convivial I'd agree to just let us all go together so I find myself on this feild without a car or a cigarette for over 2 hours. Mike put me on some team and since too many people showed, the rule became that the winning team stayed for two goals, and the losing team switched off. Of course, I had to be on the winning team an Mike kept trying to be helpful by having me gaurd assorted squat and overly aggressive irish girls with alabaster legs. I made a show of doing in for about 3 mintues until I steeled myself and remembered that I am a very grown adult and don't need to suffer needlessly at all times. So, I asked to be replaced and was. I ended up killing time talking to a pretty but completely uncomplicated young girl with the heaviest Buffallo accent known to man. I'd assumed she was from Minneonapolis it was that bad. Alas, she told me that she'd grown up in Buffallo and had never left to even visit New York city. She met her elementary school sweetheart in buffallo, and nine years later he got a job as an editor at Disney and now she is in L.A.

She was very pleasant and it turned out that she had two choices when it came to her college major: Speech therapy or dietetics. I couldn't help feel a pang of something resembling envy as I had 240 choices etc. Well, she chose dietetics and immediately was hired by a hospital upon arrival to L.A, and so I chose to pick her brain and got some good info on stomach fat and how to help my mother with her diabetes. It was like pulling teeth but I got her to tell me about her wedding and I was overly joyous and the tid bits that I extracted: The priest who married her and Josh was abusive to Josh and so self centered that he made the wedding three hours longer than it should have been. This preist was so nutty that he kept talking about himself and would yell at the people and just an overall disaster. I'm jewish and so I don't feel free to mock priest but I immediately thought the priest must be gay. And, that is kind, because I can't help but think that all preists are gay but that they like young lads too. I can't help it if they have gotten such bad press. She was pleased to inform me that her Reception was "Awesome." And so it goes.

Anyway, so that killed about an hour and a half and not soon enough it was over.. But, But, But, the night would not die and I still had to wait for these three sweaty and not fresh smelling men to have their .................. PINKBERRIES. I bought a pack of cigarettes (and a brownie, a bag of cheddar and sour cream chips and a bag of munchies at the 7 eleven) and waited outside smoking while the boys ordered thier garnished yogurt on Sunset Blvd.. I became very sarcastic at this point and thankfully they all found me hilarious(or so it seemed.) I made fun of their virility and such and they laughed so that was very very slightly fun.

ah, shit I have to go. I'll come back and rant about stinking pinkberry and what I saw when I return.

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